


Carol Danvers' Anxiety

by queercapwriting (queergirlwriting)



Series: Where's Your Head At? [19]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, PTSD, because like, but not here, carol danvers anxiety attack, frak now i need to fic that, just an appearance from tony, maria and tony would have a hilarious dynamic, she and tony Bond Over This, this is about Other Bonding and Such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 04:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queergirlwriting/pseuds/queercapwriting
Summary: anonymous asked:Hey! Prompt maybe: could you maybe write something where someone has really bad anxiety? And like maybe they have really bad stomach aches and their family has to help them through it?(Important to note for those of us who identify with This Stuff that Carol has canon PTSD and panic attacks in the comics [she bonds with Tony over it])





	Carol Danvers' Anxiety

It’s not like she stands a real chance of getting hurt. And getting hurt never scared her anyway, not really.

But this Kree’s rage looks just like her father’s had, and it was moments like this that she couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse that she had finally broken through all the ways that Yon-Rogg had violated her mind so she could actually access all her memories again.

She knew where she was - on Earth - but that knowledge just made it worse.

When she was out in the cosmos, fighting on her own, the chance of Maria, of Monica, becoming nothing more than statistics, than collateral damage, was nill.

Here, it was all she could see, and all that existed, and all that mattered.

The first time this happened to her in combat, Steve Rogers had told her she was safe, she was safe, she was here, she was safe (and he’d kept her safe, just like she’d kept him safe moments before; before she’d collapsed and had to focus too hard to remember what breathing was to protect anyone, let alone herself).

Her stomach was the worst victim of it, really; not quite nausea, not quite cramps, just pain. Immense, indescribable pain that she thought maybe Valkyrie understood when she’d knelt next to her, effortlessly cutting down anyone who got past Steve’s barrier and into their space.

She’d tried to say she was fine, but she wasn’t sure what would happen if she opened her mouth. 

“Only the strongest warriors let themselves feel what you’re feeling now,” she’d told her, and Carol had tried to scoff.

“Don’t believe me, believe that woman you’re always jabbering about,” Valkeryie teased, but gently, the way she only talked to Bruce Banner, really. And now, apparently, Carol.

“I don’t jabber,” Carol managed to murmur, and Valkyrie seemed satisfied that she’d roused Carol enough to get her to speak.

To get her to open her mouth when she was overwhelmed by terror that horrors would flood in. Or out. Or both.

Opening her mouth was about all she could do, just then; but it was all they needed her to do.

She’d saved them enough times; she’d brought everyone back from nothing.

So this was nothing. This was just returning the favor.

She was still slightly catatonic, still trying to remember how to breathe, still trying not to double over in agony over what the ways her stomach was betraying her, when her team brought her home to her family.

“Combat’s tough, but your woman’s tougher,” Tony had offered Maria. Her raised eyebrow telling him that she knew, that she’d known that for years, made him stammer for words and nod and fly away - far away - in his suit.

Valkeryie smirked. Even Carol, half lost in the throes of her ongoing panic attack, smirked. Somewhat. Small. Pained. 

But it was still there.

It was still hope.

Valkyrie offered finger guns and a wink to Monica, sitting on the porch with her knees curled up to her chest, before she, too, set off.

“I’m sorry,” was all Carol could say. 

For letting down her team.

For letting Maria see her like this.

For letting Monica see her like this.

“Hey, don’t you dare,” Maria shook her head as she helped Carol inside, out of her suit, and into their bed. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for the ways your body holds fear, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” she murmured, grateful that she could talk, even a little, now. 

Monica knocked on the door, timid and soft and just a little scared.

“Lieutenant Trouble,” Carol welcomed her in, even as she started to shake, because the adrenaline was disappearing, now, but the panic wasn’t.

“Can I make you hot chocolate? When I’m in charge of the Avengers, I think I’ll make a rule that we have hot chocolate after scary battles.”

Maria looked away so Monica wouldn’t see her cry. Carol didn’t have the energy to look away, so Monica just crawled across the bed, closer to her, and wiped her tears away.

“They tend to do shawarma now,” Carol tried to joke. Her voice sounded like it had been through hell.

Because it had. She had.

And this battle hadn’t even been a bad one. 

Just… activating.

She could never predict when this was going to happen. 

Humiliating. Inconvenient. Infuriating.

“Well, fine. Sweet after savory,” Monica declared, leaning forward to kiss her other mother’s forehead before scrambling back out of the room to make hot chocolate.

“A benevolent leader,” Maria tried, and Carol smiled. A little.

Maria put her hand just above Carol’s stomach, careful not to touch. Carol didn’t like her stomach touched when it hurt this bad. Maria knew.

She always knew.

“It’s going to pass,” Maria promised. “And it doesn’t make you weak.”

“No?” Carol croaked, because she clearly couldn’t believe it.

And that was okay. There was all the time in the world to help her believe it.

“No,” Maria affirmed, kissing her lips soft and slow, leaving only love and taking some of her panic, her pain, far away.


End file.
